Page 23 of Starving for Her
Layla
I wakeup smiling as I always do these days. The last three weeks have been the best weeks of my life, and it’s all because of one man.
James. My boyfriend, my lover, my king.
And I’m his princess. And no, I didn’t give myself that title. He calls me it every single day—multiple times a day—and I melt every time I hear it. I wonder if I’ll ever get tired of it, but I highly doubt it.
I accepted his position as a live-in chef (as well as many other positions), paid off Sam and got her out of my life. Gina’s own entrepreneurial endeavor picked up after she did some sort of promotion with a bunch of other girls and she’s managed to get a place of her own now. I, of course, have been living with my man.
It’s crazy to think about just how quickly all of this happened, and what my life would be like now if I hadn’t made that pulled pork and showed up to the house that day looking like I’d just rolled out of bed. I never expected Mr. Russell to find me attractive in that state. I couldn’t have been more wrong.
In fact, he rarely even lets me put on make-up. He prefers the “natural look.” It warms my heart every time I go to put on some concealer or eyeliner and he comes into the bathroom and stops me. For the first time, I feel as though I can be completely open with a man.
But there is still a struggle going on within me. I’m trying to fight it, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t shake the feeling of impending doom that I know was put there by my parents’ divorce. No matter how much he makes me smile or how safe he makes me feel, I still can’t shake the feeling that everything’s going to end out of the blue.
It makes logical sense; James has it all and has every option in the world available to him. He could snap his fingers and have twenty girls ready to do anything for him. Why would he choose just one dish when he could have everything on the menu?
I tell myself every morning that just because my parents’ marriage failed, doesn’t mean our relationship will. I know logically that it’s true, but really believing it is another thing entirely.
Yawning, I open my eyes and roll over, expecting to find James lying beside me. But I find an empty bed where his strong body should be. It’s the first time in three weeks that I haven’t been able to start my day with his kisses (or more), and I feel a sharp barb of panic jab me in the chest. I bite my lip and force it away.
“James?” I say loudly as I sit up. Maybe he’s in the bathroom. But there’s no response. I get up and go over to the intercom, press the buzzer and wait for Al. But again, there’s no response. This is weird.
“Okay, calm down,” I tell myself as I throw on one of his t-shirts and head downstairs. “There’s no need to panic.”
I check the foyer, the kitchen, the library and his office; I even go out back and see if he’s trying to catch a tan on the lawn, but it’s pretty obvious that James is not here—and neither is Al.
Going back upstairs, I find my phone and check to see if there’s any texts or missed calls. The only one is from Gina telling me about how she made $1,500 last night in new subscriptions to her Snapchat. I’ll text her back later.
I send James one quickly:
Where are you, babe?
I slide my phone into my shorts pocket and head back downstairs and out front. The Escalade is gone. I guess that takes kidnapping out of the possibilities. He’s gone somewhere, and for some reason he didn’t want to tell me where.
Terrible conclusions instantly fill my brain: he’s seeing another woman, he’s a corrupt businessman and is at a secret meeting with the mafia, he’s left me completely and someone’s going to come by soon and throw me out of the house.
My breaths come short and fast as I pace back and forth. What am I supposed to do? Just wait? I have to do something to occupy myself or I’m going to go nuts. I remember that we need ingredients for dinner tonight, so I quickly grab the keys to the BMW, hop in and head for town.
The gate opens for me and I take a left. A gleam in my rear-view mirror catches my attention, and I see a Mercedes sedan, bright pink, pull off the side of the road and start following me.
No, they’re not following you, Layla, I tell myself, taking a deep breath and trying to calm my heart. They just pulled out at the same time as you.
Even still, I’m already nervous, so I take an odd route into town, one that no one would take. The pink Mercedes stays behind me the whole way. Okay, this is sketchy.
I try to see who’s inside, but all I can see is a silhouette. My heart is pounding as I pull into the grocery store lot and quickly get out of the car. I grab my phone and type 9-1-1 but glance over my shoulder to see the Mercedes continue on down Main Street. I sigh deeply and put my phone away and head inside. I guess not knowing where James is has me on edge. What would anyone want with me anyway?
I grab a basket inside and quickly load up with the things I’ll need for tonight. The cashier, a happy looking girl with dyed blue hair and a Zelda t-shirt on, smiles at me as she rings me up.
“Watcha makin’?” she asks.
“Oh, it’s a pork-loin recipe,” I tell her, happy for the distraction from my own thoughts. “Sweet and spicy with pomme puree.”
She nods and smiles but gives me an inquisitive look.
“It’s like mashed potatoes,” I tell her. “Just…sounds fancier.”
“Oh! I love mashed potatoes!” she laughs. “Not as good as French fries though! But if I eat too many more of them, they’ll be able to roll me down a hill!”